The Darkness Within
by ADHARYN
Summary: 5 years after the horrific downfall of the Malfoys on the night the Golden Trio escapes the manor, Draco Malfoy knows only one thing. Vengeance. Luckily for the Order of the Phoenix, it's the Death Eaters he has it out for. While Malfoy is trying to salvage this war, Hermione takes it upon herself to salvage the remaining shreds of his soul.


**DISCLAIMERS:  
• I don't own Harry Potter, I merely dabble in the world.  
****• Cover cred to whatafuck_graphics on Wattpad!****  
**

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**01 | PROLOGUE**

**Warnings: This chapter is dark! Rape & torture (but not in explicit detail).**

It had been an absolute shit year for Draco Lucius Malfoy.

No scratch that, it had been a shit life for him. War always came with a steep cost, no matter the side you were on. Despite his speedily withering views on blood purity since his sixth year, the youngest Malfoy had long since accepted that there was no escaping the reign of the mad man his father had opened their home to. Not unless he wanted to watch his mother defiled and murdered in the very house in which she raised him. He even knew the moment his father realized the error of his ways too. They were sitting at the dining table with the Dark Lord's monstrosity of a snake devouring the late Hogwarts Muggle Studies professor when he saw the bleak rage in his sire. Malfoys didn't bow to anyone- much less give up their wands to them. It was a realization that had, unfortunately, come too late for the head of the family.

But that had all changed.

The war had been tipping in their favor; the Order of the Phoenix had been forced into hiding. The Muggleborn registry had been growing by the day, most of the younger ones already exterminated by then. Sure, Potter was still out there with his friends doing Merlin knows what, but the Dark Lord had his wand at the throat of every important wizard in Britain, and that was what mattered.

Until that night.

The Golden fucking Trio was dragged into the Manor with something they weren't supposed to have. And they escaped from right under their watch. Draco still couldn't bring himself regret not identifying the three- not out of any lost love, mind you. But they were the only hope left to end this war and restore society to what it should be.

Perhaps he felt a little differently when Voldemort learned of their failure. He'd been immobilized and brought to his knees while they forced him to watch the punishment for failing the Dark Lord. Not a few hours ago, he was watching Greyback salivate over the promise of the remains of the one prodigal Hermione Granger. Yet now, Draco watched him tower over his mother. To his great relief, his father had fought. Lucius Malfoy had fought tooth and nail, even though he looked every bit the unrefined barbarian at that moment that he'd spent his entire life condemning. Despite the man's failures, he did protect his own, and _no one_ was allowed to defile Lady Malfoy. Voldemort had cackled with immense glee at the sight, using Lucius' own wand to hold him frozen while Greyback tore into Narcissa.

Everyone believed Narcissa Malfoy was a quiet, demure witch- the perfect society wife, a delicate petal. Yet at that moment, Draco could see every ounce of the Black within her. She'd been stoic when Greyback tore her clothes off- helpless without her wand, but determined not to give them the entertainment of screaming and pleading. He desperately wished the monster had just killed her and then eaten her, but Voldemort had given the werewolf free reign, and he planned to use it with the rare gift of this pureblood witch. Narcissa had looked back at her beloved son with tearful, desperate eyes. _She didn't want him to see her like this, she didn't want him to remember her like this. She didn't want that burden on his soul._

When the beast began pounding into his mother, Draco couldn't close his eyes to the horror unfolding in front of him, _they hadn't allowed him that luxury. _By some small miracle, his vision was blurred by the never-ending tears that kept slipping out. Narcissa's gaze had been locked onto her husband the entire time, much like Granger kept her eyes on Draco, taking sanctuary in familiar blue orbs of the man she loved. She'd managed to keep her silence save the occasional wounded whimpers when Greyback had been determined to draw a response.

She was bloody and wrecked by the time Greyback was finished taking his pleasure. But she was still alive when he took the first bite out of her. It was the only time she'd shrieked.

Lucius Malfoy was a shell of the man by the time the fiasco was over, brokenly gazing upon the unidentifiable remains of the wife he'd loved and adored despite the rarity of such sentiment in pureblood marriages. Draco was trembling with rage, barely contained by the petrifying hex on him. Yet Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa's own sister, stood blankly at the Dark Lord's side. It was no consolation whatsoever that her typical cackling glee was absent.

Her punishment had come next. According to the Dark Lord, she got off easy, being one the most fanatical, loyal supporters of his cause. Her task: kill Lucius Malfoy. And she didn't hesitate either. While the swift killing curse lacked her typical glee and sadistic games, she'd killed him nonetheless. Her own brother-in-law.

It was perhaps in the span of those torturous hours that Draco felt the last shreds of his childhood dying and withering away. He hadn't felt his age since sixth year when he was tasked with killing Dumbledore, but even then, he'd had the comfort and protection of his parents, however, limited it might've been. But now he was well and truly alone- the last living Malfoy. His mind raced when the Dark Lord finally turned to him curiously, pondering aloud what should be done with the youngest. Draco was wandless, and he doubted he could do much damage any which way before they managed killed him. But at that point, he didn't have much of value left to lose, his own life included.

To his grief, he wasn't allowed to take his vengeance there.

Severus Snape had chosen the most opportune moment to show up, inadvertently shifting the course of his Goodson's future. Now that Voldemort's rage was soothed, Snape was able to persuade him of the value of keeping the youngest Malfoy alive to feed resources and future generations of Malfoys into his reign. Voldemort himself, being the power blinded psychopath he was, agreed reasonably quickly, not even once questioning the threat posed by the seething young man despite his mastery in legillimency.

Snape hadn't given Draco a single moment when they released his petrifaction, immediately clasping onto his arm and disapparating them away. He'd taken them back to Hogwarts, which looked deceptively peaceful in the early hours of the morning, landing them near the isolation of the Great Lake.

"Get off," Draco spat harshly, jerking his arm away.

"Draco," Snape began, his voice softer than he'd ever heard from his Godfather.

"No. How could you? He killed them! He- my mother-" his voice cracked, and he couldn't manage to even express his rage, sorrow, and devastation.

"I know, Draco. I know." Snape surprised them both by pulling the young man into his embrace.

Draco felt his defenses crumble at that moment, the sorrow overpowering the rage, his helplessness pulling him into a darkness within himself he didn't know if he'd ever be able to crawl out of. After a few moments, he found the strength to pull back from his Godfather.

"I'm not going back." He said resolutely.

"No, you're not." Snape agreed.

His response surprised Draco. But not as much as when he pulled out his wand, conjuring a beautiful, misty doe patronus.

_I have critical information for your mission. I'm sure you've recognized this patronus by now. Meet me where I left you the sword. The fate of this war depends on it._

"Who did you send that to?" Draco asked warily when the doe galloped away.

Nothing could've prepared him for the look of resolution on his Godfather's face.

"Potter."

**~o~o~o~**

**~ 5 years later**

Draco could even count the number of times he'd nearly died since his Godfather took him to the Order. Once when Potter and his crew met them in the forest, Weasley had almost blown his head in anger. For some reason, Snape's patronus stopped them in their tracks. His admission of his own history with the Order shocked the young wizards, Draco included. But Potter seemed to be somewhat awed with the Potions master after viewing his memories. Not that Draco ever got to know what was in them. He didn't know what his Godfather did or had done, but it gained them a ticket into the Order of the Phoenix with Harry bloody Potter as their advocate.

So he didn't question it.

He found that he no longer really cared much about the trivial details.

The second time was when he and Snape were introduced to the rest of the Order's ranks. Though with Potter standing between him and the angry army, he supposed he was never in any real danger. The golden trio had been wary of returning to their old Headquarters in Grimmauld Place, believing it's security compromised. But apparently, Snape managed to secure it for the Order- another thing for which they owed him.

Draco stood through all of it stoically.

He no longer cared if he might die at any moment. Oh, he wanted his revenge all right; it was like a burning inferno within him- the only thing keeping him moving. Yet the inevitability of death no longer scared him.

Ever since then, he'd been steadily working alongside the Order. And the countless missions had racked up his near-death encounters. Not that he cared. All he knew was that he would live another day to see vengeance brought to his parents' murderers. His methods were often grey, bordering on dark magic. But the war had been raging already for 5 years, depleting the Order's resources. In their desperation, the Order turned a blind eye to his more questionable methods, satisfied for the time being that he seemed hell-bent on using all those years of training and tutoring in ancient and ambiguous magic against the Death Eaters and not them. To his credit, Draco never crossed that unspoken line into the unforgivables; that would be pushing beyond the Order's moral code, and as much as he hated it, he needed them. Besides, the unforgivables were rather abysmal in reality; there were so many more creative ways to make someone suffer than something as swift and peaceful as a killing curse.

Snape had taken his Godson under his wing after that night at the Manor. Draco was most useful to the Order as a double agent, but he knew the boy would no longer be able to play spy well enough to fill his father's shoes. Not when he would have to face his parents' perpetrators every day without being able to do anything about it. So instead, Snape began training him to fill his own shoes as head of Hogwarts, which kept him out of Voldemort's way save the occasional meeting. While the Carrows were still his deputies, Draco was an apprentice of sorts.

One evening the Dark Lord had summoned Snape to his side. When he commended the loyal follower for so efficiently managing the youngest Malfoy after the failure of his parents, Snape immediately knew something was wrong. The trepidation only grew when he mentioned Draco would be a useful asset at Hogwarts.

"You see, Severus, I'm afraid the Elder Wand I've recently acquired doesn't bend to my will."

"My Lord..?" Severus drawled, though his blood ran cold at the implication.

"The wand does not answer to me because I was not the one to fell its last master. _You _killed Dumbledore. It answers to _you_.

It truly saddens me; it has to be this way. You were a great soldier. And Draco will do well to fill your shoes."

When Draco was finally summoned by the Dark Lord, the Order was already in knots over Severus' disappearance. When the Dark Lord told him of his Godfather's fate, Draco nearly took his head off right then and there. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that he was now the last spy the Order had within the Death Eaters, and not all of Voldemort's wretched Horcruxes had been destroyed yet.

He almost changed his mind when the Dark Lord congratulated him for becoming the youngest headmaster of Hogwarts at the blooming age of 22. The sick bastard expected Draco to thank him for the honor when he'd just told him that he murdered his Godfather. The last person in this world to genuinely care about what became of him. It took everything in him to give Voldemort a short bow and a clipped response that he would not fail him.

"He's dead," Draco told the Order later that night, startlingly numb by that point.

The others had been surprisingly devastated by the news. Though no one truly liked the sullen man, everyone had learned to respect Severus Snape a great deal once they learned of how Dumbledore had played him around for the "greater good" like his own personal pawn.

"He thought killing Snape would finally give him control of the Elder Wand since Snape killed Dumbledore."

"But Snape didn't have control of the Elder Wand," Harry said knowingly, watching Malfoy closely.

Draco raised an eyebrow blankly.

"_You _disarmed Dumbledore before Snape even got there," Harry reminded him.

The blood drained from his face, and the entire room fell silent as they finally understood the implication of what Harry said.

"Well, as long as the only people who know that are in this room, we still have an advantage," Professor McGonagall said briskly.

"That's true," Bill spoke up. "Malfoy, now that you've been raised in the ranks, we'll need to move swiftly in the coming months. With you having the power of the Elder Wand, we may finally be able to end this bloody war."

"It would seem so," Malfoy acknowledged tonelessly.

The Order began to disperse back to their numerous safe houses shortly thereafter. While saddened by the turn of events and the fateful end of the invaluable Severus Snape, everyone felt the blooming hope of their new weapon. They could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Yet Draco couldn't help but feel achingly indifferent at that moment. He should be satisfied; his vengeance was now closer than ever- he had a leg up on Lord Voldemort himself. But he hadn't anticipated the loss of his Godfather. In the wake of his parents' loss, he hadn't even paused to consider how much he relied on his Godfather. He was well and truly alone now.

As Draco sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his tumbler of Firewhiskey, he failed to notice a particular witch lingering.

Hermione had been watching Draco these past few years. And what she saw concerned her deeply. He'd suffered so much loss. He'd lost his parents, and she'd seen the hardened man that came out of that tragedy; he was leagues different from the overconfident boy he used to be, who's bark was always worse than his bite. But now he'd lost his Godfather too. Hermione remembered how desolate Harry was immediately after losing Sirius. She'd been genuinely scared for what would become of him back then. But he had Remus, her, and the entire Weasley clan to help pick up the pieces of his shattered heart. Yet Draco now had no one. As accepted as he'd become among the Order, he wasn't really close to any of them. His was a bit too hardened to find amusement in the twins' company, a bit too young for the older adults, and he had too much history with the golden trio to seek out their company.

He moved in and out of Headquarters like a shadow, expecting no one to pay him any mind once he'd told them all the relevant information he had. Yet he didn't notice the one witch always lingering. Because Hermione most certainly noticed. And she feared for what would become of him now that he had no one, and would let no one in.


End file.
